The Countdown
by imagination junkie
Summary: Human AU. A two part 'Love Actually'-esque story about the intersection of people's lives and loves at New Year's. Featured pairings: PruHun, USUK, Spamano, NyoGerxIta, and a dash of Franada. Rated T for language.
1. December 30

**December 30**

…

Elizabeta Héderváry-Beilschmidt was not typically a violent woman. Well…no. That statement wasn't entirely accurate. In any case she wasn't typically given to fits of murderous rage. However, as she stared at her husband snoring sloppily on the couch- his limbs sprawled everywhere and a line of drool draining from the corner of his mouth- the only thing she could think was _'Kill, kill, kill…'_.

"Gilbert…it's time wake up," Elizabeta said, her tone saturated with false sweetness.

"Ungh…five more minutes…"

"Oh no. If you don't get up now you'll be late for work and I can't let that happen."

"Urgh…fine…" Gilbert stretched and yawned widely before cracking one bloodshot red eye open. He froze as his gaze focused on his wife before him and his face turned, if possible, even paler.

Elizabeta didn't waste any more time. She swung the frying pan in her hand down, aiming for Gilbert's head.

With an inhuman yelp and agility that belied his hung-over state Gilbert threw himself out of the range of his furious wife and the cast-iron cooking utensil she wielded. "What the hell Liz?" Gilbert spat as he scrambled to his feet. "Are you actually trying to kill me?!"

"I'm not quite sure," Elizabeta replied as she stalked around the couch, her green eyes sparking. "Why don't you stand still long enough for me to hit you and we can find out?"

"Oh hell no!" Prussia danced to the other side of the couch. "What're you so mad at me about anyways?!"

Elizabeta's face flushed red. "What I am so mad about? What am I so mad about?!" With a shriek of pure fury Elizabeta threw herself at her husband again.

Tomorrow was New Year's Eve. Not only was it one of Elizabeta's favorite holidays, but they were also supposed to be hosting a big party. She'd spent all week slaving over the preparations, cooking and cleaning and decorating. And then her husband- her wonderful, loving, idiotic, soon-to-to-be-dead husband- had gone out drinking with his friends last night. This wasn't unusual. Nor was it unusual when he came stumbling home well past midnight and completely plastered.

If it had just been that Elizabeta wouldn't have minded. In fact there was a tiny-teeny, itsy-bitsy part of her that was just slightly sadistic and enjoyed torturing Gilbert when he was hung-over. But last night he had gotten into the food that she'd made for the party, managing to make an enormous mess in the kitchen as he'd done so. Unfortunately, his stomach couldn't handle all the food on top of the alcohol and he'd been violently sick in the family room…several times. Somehow he'd also managed to destroy the decorations.

Needless to say Elizabeta was not a happy woman.

Gilbert seemed to realize all the destruction he'd caused as he made a mad dash for the front door. "Shit! Liz, I'm sorry," he began as he skidded to a stop in front of his only portal to salvation. He didn't get to finish his thought, however, as he was forced to duck another swing from his wife's frying pan. With another yelp- that was not high-pitched or girly thank you very much- he threw the door open and dove outside.

"You bastard!" Elizabeta shouted, coming to a halt in the open doorway as Gilbert picked himself up off the grass.

"Liz, look, I'm sorry— Shit!" Gilbert was forced to cut his sentence short again in order to dodge the frying pan that was spinning towards his head. "Damn it, Liz! I said I was sorry!" He glanced over his shoulder, clearly alarmed at the sizeable dent that was now in the yard.

"Screw you!"

"Liz! Seriously, I'm sorry!"

"Just shut up already, Gilbert!" Elizabeta shouted, stamping her foot on the doorstep. "I'm so mad right now that I could just— Argh!" She turned around and stormed back into the house. "Don't you dare come home tonight! If you do I'll…I'lll…I don't know what I'll do!" With that she slammed the door shut with enough force to rattle the windows.

Gilbert flopped down onto the grass with a groan. Inside Elizabeta leaned against the door and allowed a few tears to slip down her cheeks before she clamped down on her frustration.

"Damn him," she whispered, her tone harsh. But her voice trembled.

**...**

It was never a good morning when you were awoken by your furious wife. Gilbert Beilschmidt had never had a morning quite this bad, however. Elizabeta being mad at him wasn't new. Elizabeta trying to kill him with her favorite frying pan was.

It wasn't like he'd tried to ruin everything for the party. He'd just gone out drinking with Francis and Antonio like usual. And he'd gotten drunk like usual. Well, perhaps he'd gotten a little more drunk than normal. But this was the holiday season! And he hadn't done it on purpose! With a sigh Gilbert tried to stop thinking about it. It was only making his hangover-induced headache worse.

While Gilbert was quite perturbed about the whole experience, his partner Alfred was, of course, not.

"Dude! That's hilarious!"

"It really isn't," Gilbert ground out, Alfred's obnoxious excuse for a laugh causing his temples to throb.

"It really is! Your wife trying to beat your head in with a frying pan? That's the best thing I've heard all day!" Alfred laughed again as he turned around to pick up his coffee, the speed gun still propped in the open window of the police cruiser.

"You're so unawesome," Gilbert muttered petulantly, sinking down further in the driver's seat.

"Gilbert!" Alfred whined, turning a pout on the other man. "Now you're just being mean!"

"You're the one who's laughing at me!"

"Alright, alright I'm sorry," Alfred chuckled as he turned to look out the window again. "It's not like she's gonna stay mad at you forever anyway. And I'm sure the party will go off without a hitch."

"Yea…" Gilbert sighed. "You're probably right." At least he hoped so. He'd made Elizabeta mad before, but she'd never thrown him out for the night like this. He'd have to make sure that he did something extra special to make it up to her when he went home.

"Wait a second…You make it sound like you're not coming to the party," Gilbert accused, turning a suspicious glare on Alfred's back.

"What? Oh. Yea, sorry about that," Alfred replied rather reluctantly, throwing a sheepish grin back over his shoulder at Gilbert. "My brother's gonna come and hang out."

"You could bring him to the party with you."

"Nah. We really don't spend enough time together. I just kinda want to hang with him, you know?"

Gilbert's eyes narrowed, but Alfred didn't turn around again. There was just something…off about Alfred's tone. He was usually so obnoxiously enthusiastic about everything, but right now he just seemed faintly gloomy. In fact, now that Gilbert thought about it, he'd been that way since Christmas. He laughed as loudly and as raucously as usual and smiled as easily as ever, but now it seemed…forced.

Gilbert vaguely remembered Alfred being really excited about something around this time last year. Something about some guy… But then he'd had some bad relationship trouble during the summer. Gilbert raised an eyebrow. Was that Alfred's problem? He didn't know, but he was gonna find out. No one was allowed to be all mopey and depressed when they were in his awesome presence.

Gilbert had barely opened his mouth to ask what was up when a car sped past their hiding spot at well over the legal speed limit. "Got him," Alfred said, pulling the speed gun back into the car and throwing Gilbert a smirk. "62 in a 45."

Gilbert pushed his concerns about his partner into the back of his mind as he flicked the switch to turn the lights on and threw the car into drive.

…

Alfred F. Jones left work at lunch. Supposedly it was to clean his apartment before his brother arrived and threw a fit at the state of it. And while Alfred certainly did need to clean that wasn't the real reason why he'd left work early. It was really because he couldn't maintain his façade of normalcy any longer.

There was a time when he'd loved New Year's. It was yet another excuse to drink, party, and generally have a good time, which Alfred would never pass up. More importantly though New Year's Eve was the day, three years ago, when he'd met the love of his life at a party.

He'd been enchanted immediately by his green eyes and had made a complete and utter fool himself trying to get a kiss all night. The man was stubborn, but as the clock struck midnight he finally got his kiss and Alfred realized he was a goner. They'd spent two wonderful, infuriating years together until last year when, again on New Year's Eve, Alfred had proposed. Arthur, tears in his eyes, had accepted and they'd made love until dawn. It was wonderful, beautiful- everything was going to be perfect. And then it all fell apart.

Even now Alfred wasn't entirely sure what had happened. There'd been a fight. He'd said the wrong thing. And then it all spiraled completely out of control. It'd been six months, six long months since he'd spoken a word to Arthur or seen him at more than a distance. It left Alfred feeling cold and lonely. Especially right now. He didn't really want to think about the state he'd been in tomorrow.

"Here you go, Alfred."

Alfred was shaken from his reverie by the crinkling of paper and the smell of greasy, fresh cooked burgers. Alfred looked up, pasted the widest smile he could manage on his face, and took the paper bag that was dangling in front of him. "Thanks Mr. S," Alfred replied. He pulled out his wallet.

"No problem." Mr. S, the owner of Alfred's favorite burger joint, handed him his change with a grin. Alfred knew he was his favorite customer. "Have a Happy New Year, kid!"

"Yea, you too." As soon as Alfred turned away his face fell. Yea, a happy new year. Right.

The bell of the restaurant tinkled as Alfred opened the door and stepped out onto the sidewalk. Normally he'd drop his gaze and just shuffle home, but today his eyes were drawn to the store across the street. It was a flower shop. Arthur's shop. Alfred always thought that was a funny coincidence.

Alfred didn't know what he was doing standing there and staring. There was nothing to see really. Just windows full to bursting with flowers despite the fact that it was the dead of winter. No matter how hard Alfred looked he couldn't see him. Sometimes he thought about just storming across the street, throwing the door open, and sweeping Arthur off his feet. But he knew Arthur wouldn't like that. And somehow he just didn't have the guts to look Arthur in the eye and see the anger burning there again.

So, his chest aching with longing and deep regret, Alfred turned and walked home.

…

Arthur Kirkland knew Alfred couldn't see him. But that didn't mean that he couldn't see Alfred. He watched Alfred walk towards his apartment, a bag of burgers in his hand just like he did everyday. And everyday he ached for the other man, for what they'd had and what they'd lost. But Arthur knew he would never go to his door and call after him. That he'd never try to make amends for what had gone wrong. He was too foolishly proud for that.

Arthur jumped as a large bouquet of rather garish flowers was thumped down onto the counter in front of him. "Why the long face?"

Arthur looked up into the playfully smirking face of the man on the other side of his counter and scowled. "Shut up, Francis." He snatched the credit card from Francis's outstretched fingers and turned to the register.

Francis gave a melodramatic sigh and turned around, leaning his back against the counter. After a moment he spoke again. Not a question- a statement. "It's Alfred again isn't it."

Arthur tried and failed to suppress the flinch and the stab of pain Francis's words brought. "Shut up."

Francis sighed again, but when he turned to take his card back his expression was serious. "How long are you going to keep this up, Arthur?"

Arthur ignored his question. "Make sure you put these in water as soon as you get home," Arthur said sullenly, wrapping some pretty decorative paper around the base of the bouquet.

"Oh, I'm not taking them home," Francis replied smugly. "They're for my date."

"Lovely." Arthur shoved the flowers into Francis's face, not the least bit concerned about "accidently" poking one of the other man's eyes out. "Now get out."

Francis let out an offended huff, but took the flowers. "I'm being serious, Arthur. As much as I hate to admit it you've got me worried."

Arthur felt a flush of embarrassment rise in his cheeks. "It isn't any of your business," he muttered, turning away to rearrange some flowers that didn't really need rearranging.

"I know that. But you've been so miserable ever since…" Arthur stiffened. "…Ever since you and Alfred broke up." Francis had wisely thought better of whatever he'd been about to say.

"Well…what would you expect…" Oh God. The pain was returning, piercing loneliness and bitter disappointment because everything he'd ever wanted had shattered into a million pieces over something so ridiculously stupid.

"Arthur—"

"Please. Just leave."

Arthur heard Francis sigh again and then his footsteps moved away. The door opened. "You're right. It isn't any of my business. But for whatever reason I consider you a friend. You shouldn't let what you had with Alfred go like this. I don't know everything that happened, but if you don't keep trying I know you'll end up regretting it. Anyways…Happy New Year, Arthur."

Arthur didn't respond. Right. Happy new year. The door swung shut. Arthur doubled over, but no matter how hard he bit his lip he couldn't stop the tears.

…

Francis Bonnefoy whistled a cheerful tune as he strolled down the street, offering playful winks and flirtatious smiles to every pretty girl or handsome man he passed. He was often accused of being a whore, but that wasn't how Francis chose to see it. He simply loved to love- and he wasn't picky about who he did it with.

Francis was quite good at it as well. He could, quite literally, charm the pants off anyone he wanted. But while he never had problems in the romance department it seemed like all his friends did lately. First there was Arthur who still hadn't gotten over himself and made up with Alfred. Then there was Antonio and Lovino. If things kept going the way they were they were going to end up like Arthur and Alfred. And then there was Gilbert who had shown up at his door that morning smelling of alcohol and vomit and begging Francis to let him use his shower because his wife had kicked him out.

Francis let out a dramatic sigh. They were all fools. Fools! But Francis could not abandon them because he believed in love. So he, very nobly and unselfishly, would take it upon himself to help them solve their problems and—

"Ah!"

"Oh my God! I'm so sorry!"

Francis looked down, dismayed, at the coffee stain that was rapidly spreading down the front of his designer jacket. Puffing up like an angry rooster Francis turned a glare on the person he had run into and promptly felt his voice die in his throat.

"I'm so, so sorry! I swear I'll pay to get it dry cleaned!"

The man before Francis had the most beautiful violet eyes he'd ever seen. Blond hair fell in soft waves around his face, accented by a free-spirited curl dangling from his bangs. He was quite tall, but somehow lacked presence. He cringed away from Francis's unashamed stare as though he was expecting to be hit. "A-are you alright?" the man asked, his voice somehow still soft and musical.

"Yes. Yes, I'm fine." Francis was a bit dazed. True this man lacked presence, but how could he have missed him? He was beautiful. And Francis never failed to see someone who was beautiful.

"I'll pay for the cleaning," the man offered again, looking slightly less meek as it became clear that Francis wasn't angry with him.

"No, that's quite alright."

The man was taken aback. "Are you sure?"

"Yes. Please excuse me, now. I've got somewhere to be." Francis more drifted than walked past the man and continued on his way down the street. He felt like he was in a dream. How could he not have noticed that man? Was he losing his touch? And, more importantly, why did he suddenly feel like he was walking on air?

Francis glanced back over his shoulder. The man was still standing there staring mournfully at his half-full coffee cup and looking rather pitiful. Francis shook his head. He didn't really have time to deal with this right now. He wouldn't even have time to soak his jacket. He fingered the new stain, his lip curling in faint distaste. But, somehow, he found he wasn't bothered by it as much as he should have been with those violet eyes dancing across his vision.

…

Antonio Fernandez Carriedo headed over to Francis's table once his date stood up. At the door she paused and blew a kiss at him and Francis responded with a lazy wave. Though his reaction was nonchalant Antonio saw that Francis was grinning like the cat that ate the canary as he sat down.

"I'm guessing it went well?" Antonio chuckled.

"Oh, yes," Francis replied, stretching his arms behind his head. "It went very well."

"Even with that massive stain on your jacket?"

Francis looked down like he'd forgotten all about it. "Yes…"

"What happened anyways?"

Francis traced the outline of the stain absentmindedly. He had a faraway look in his eyes. "Well I was—!"

Antonio and Francis both jumped as a door slammed upstairs. Antonio felt Francis's eyes flicker to him before turning back at the bottom of the staircase. Antonio ignored him. The sound of feet clunking on the stairs got louder as another man descended to the main floor of the café. He paused, his eyes shifting quickly from Francis to Antonio before turning resolutely to the floor. He hurriedly made for the door.

"Where are you going Lovino?" Antonio asked, trying his best to keep his voice sounding cheerful despite the desperation he felt.

Lovino froze, hand on the doorknob. "Out."

"I figured that." Antonio knew his chuckle sounded forced. "But where exactly?"

"It's none of your business." It was clear that Lovino's temper was rising quickly, but he still didn't open the door.

"Ah, but Lovino—"

"Damn it! You stupid bastard!" Antonio flinched as Lovino snapped. "It isn't any of your fucking business, but I'm going to see Feliciano! Alright?!" Lovino didn't wait for a reply and darted outside, slamming the door of the café behind him. There was a loud clatter at the metal 'Open' sign fell to the floor.

Antonio let out the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding as he sagged against the back of his chair.

"He's still angry huh?" Francis asked with a wince.

"Yea…" Antonio sighed despondently, gaze fixed on his hands.

Antonio had known when he'd gotten into this relationship with Lovino that he was a jealous man. For a long time he'd never really thought about it and it had never been an issue. But a few weeks ago Lovino had walk in on him and Bella and…nothing had been happening. It wasn't anything like Lovino thought it was. He and Bella had been friends forever and they really had fallen into that position by accident.

Antonio had tried to explain to Lovino that it was all just a huge misunderstanding, but no matter what Antonio tried he just wouldn't listen. Now, rather than laughter and half-hearted curses filling the café and their small apartment upstairs, there was nothing by bitter glares and betrayed silence. Antonio didn't know how much longer he could last. How much longer they could last. And it terrified him.

"Do you have a plan?" Francis asked.

Antonio laughed humorlessly. "Yes. I have a plan. But…" Antonio ran a hand that shook ever so slightly over his face. "I don't know if I can do it."

"Antonio." Antonio looked up in surprise when he felt Francis lay a gentle hand on his shoulder. His expression was sympathetic, but there was fiery encouragement in his eyes. "If it's going to win Lovino back for you I'm certain you can do it."

Antonio smiled. It was a ghost of the old smile he used to wear before everything had gone to shit, but it was a smile all the same. "Thank you Francis." And though Antonio was still terrified- of so many things- he felt a new kind of determination fill his chest.

He would do whatever it took to win Lovino back.

…

Lovino Vargas stormed into the little Italian restaurant, brushed past the alarmed hostess without so much as an 'Excuse me', and sat down at his usual table in a quiet corner. He glared angrily at the bottle of olive oil and spices that sat with the wine list and the salt and pepper shakers and tried to calm the anger that boiled in his blood. Damn him! Damn that bastard!

The worst part was that no matter how angry he was at Antonio, no matter how much his heart ached, no matter how many times that image of Antonio and that…that…woman in that position ran through his mind he just couldn't hate him. He just couldn't hate Antonio. Lovino loved him too much to hate him. And that's why it hurt so much.

"Wow, you look extra grumpy today."

"Shut the hell up!" Lovino snapped, turning a furious glare up at the man standing before his table.

Feliciano, Lovino's younger brother, simply smiled and continued cheerfully. "I guess you're still mad at Antonio. You're only this grumpy when you're mad at him."

Lovino flushed red with rage. "I said shut the hell up, damn it!"

Feliciano, who was always in a mood so joyful that it rivaled Antonio's, just laughed. "Ok, ok, I'm sorry. You want the usual?"

"Yea," Lovino growled, crossing his arms and looking away. He was not going to let his brother know that he always felt bad for taking his anger out on him. And he definitely wasn't going to apologize for it. "But I've had a crappy day so make sure they put some extra meatballs in it."

"Of course!"

Lovino watched Feliciano happily bounce away. He let a little, envious sigh. He wished he could be like that- happy all the time. Well he had been in his own way. At least before… Lovino pinched his hand. Hard. If he started thinking about Antonio again he'd only work himself up into a bigger temper before having that much farther to fall into his unending misery.

Lovino watched his brother as he flitted around the dining room of the restaurant. His brother was just a waiter, but somehow he always seemed to be so fulfilled. He never seemed lost or upset or worried about his lot in life. But he'd always been like that. Happy little Feliciano, who got all the attention and acclaim and affection. Lovino had always been jealous of him for that. But, when he'd started dating Antonio, all of that hadn't seemed to bother him so much anymore. Antonio made him feel special, loved. At least he used to. None of that it mattered now.

Feliciano finally returned bearing a massive bowl of spaghetti stacked high with meatballs and smothered in marinara sauce. Feliciano placed it on the table before Lovino with a cheerful "Here you ago!" and Lovino eagerly attacked it with the gusto of a man who hasn't eaten in days.

To Lovino's surprise Feliciano took a seat next to him rather than heading off to serve someone else. Lovino tried to ignore him at first, but it was impossible with his brother staring at him with that stupid (adorable) smile.

"What do you want?" Lovino finally asked around a mouthful of pasta.

Feliciano's smile faltered a bit and his eyes took on a serious expression. Lovino felt his stomach swoop uncomfortably. "Lovi, I know you don't like it when I bug you, but I'm worried about you. You're always so angry now and I know you haven't worked stuff out with Antonio and I know he's worried too and—"

"Shut up."

Feliciano blinked, startled. Lovino hadn't raised his voice at all, but the sharpness of his tone had cut through Feliciano's words like a knife. "But, Lovi—"

"I said shut up!" This time Lovino's shout echoed through the restaurant, leaving it in stunned silence. Lovino bowed his head, hands in trembling fists as they gripped his pants. He fought his tears valiantly and lost.

Gradually the noise in the restaurant resumed. Lovino took a ragged breath and looked up at his brother, hot tears still wet on his cheeks. "You don't know anything about what happened. It…it isn't any of your business. Stop worrying about it."

"But…Lovi…" Feliciano's smile was truly gone now, his expression pure concern for Lovino. Lovino immediately felt awful for yelling at his brother. He looked away.

"Look, Feli…you should probably just—" Lovino blinked in surprise at the sound of a chair scraping against the floor. When Lovino turned around he found that Feliciano had disappeared.

…

Feliciano Vargas felt really, really bad for jumping up and leaving when he was having such an important discussion with his brother- who he truly was very worried about it- but he had always been a bit air headed. So, when he'd seen her walk through the door, his only thought had been to get to the bar before any of the other waiters did.

He reached it just after she did and bounced around the back. Giving her the biggest, brightest smile he commanded he said, a bit breathlessly, "Hello again! Here to pick up?"

The woman before him didn't maintain eye contact and immediately fixed her gaze on the top of the bar. "Yes," she replied, the most adorable blush staining her cheeks a rich pink.

"Number?"

"23."

"Ok!" Feliciano ducked under the bar and tried to calm his racing heart. He felt awful for running away from Lovino, but he just couldn't help himself whenever this woman walked into the restaurant to get her take-out. Her appearance simply chased all the other thoughts from his head.

She'd first come in three months ago. In the beginning Feliciano had been intimidated. She was a couple inches taller than him and her expression was so stern! But when he'd asked her what she'd come in for and offered her his best smile (though he'd been almost cringing as he did so) she'd dropped her gaze shyly and blushed. Feliciano realized then that she was beautiful, with those bright blue eyes and that short blonde hair to frame her face. And her figure, well…it was to die for.

The problem was that Feliciano didn't even know her name. She never ate at the restaurant- she all but ran for the door as soon as she got her take-out. And they never spoke more than was necessary for the transaction of money and delicious Italian food to take place. Feliciano often fancied that she was as taken with him as he was with her, especially since the number of times a week she came seemed to increase as the weeks passed. But Feliciano could never quite work up the courage to talk to her.

It was all very strange. Usually he had no problem flirting with girls. And he knew how very charming he could be. But somehow she was different. She obliterated every notion that Feliciano had about what was going on around him until only she was left.

"Here you go!" Feliciano chirped, placing the bag on the counter. "That'll be $14.54 please!"

The woman handed him a twenty without looking at him. She always paid in cash. Feliciano handed her the change and she quickly grabbed the bag, with a mumbled "Thank you."

"No problem! Have a Happy New Year!"

The woman paused halfway to the door and glanced back at him, surprise in her eyes. Her blush deepened, but a small smile tugged at her lips. For the very briefest of moments their eyes met. "Thank you. You too."

Feliciano watched the door for about a minute after she had left. His heart was soaring in his chest. That was the first time she'd smiled at him and…dear God… Feliciano was certain his cheeks would be sore tomorrow with how widely he was smiling.

Finally Feliciano drifted back over to Lovino's table and dropped into a chair. Lovino watched him warily, the bowl before him now empty. Feliciano didn't say anything. That was highly unusual, but her smile seemed to have short circuited his brain.

"So, what's her name?"

Feliciano jumped. "Huh?"

Lovino scowled. "I asked what her name was."

"Ohhhh…" Feliciano laughed, embarrassed. "Well…I don't know."

"You don't know?" Lovino was incredulous. "How come you don't know?"

"I've never asked," Feliciano admitted quietly.

Lovino snorted derisively. "Then ask her."

Feliciano gave his brother a bashful look. "I can't."

"Why not?"

"I don't know, Lovi. I just can't. I get all tongue tied whenever she comes in and she never looks at me, except for today, which as was weird, but I really liked it and she's so pretty and—"

"You really like her, don't you?"

Feliciano's face fell. He hated seeing that sad look on Lovino's face. "Yes. I really do."

"You should talk to her then. One of us deserves to be happy."

Feliciano bit back a sigh. "Don't say that, Lovi. Please."

Lovino didn't respond. Instead he stood, placed some money on the table, and headed for the door. "I've got to go," he mumbled as he passed, laying his hand briefly on Feliciano's shoulder.

Feliciano let out the sigh he'd been holding in once his brother was gone. He counted the cash he'd left on the table. Once again Lovino had tipped him too much. His brother was hopeless.

…

Monika Beilschmidt hurried away from the little Italian restaurant as fast as her legs could carry her, the bag of take out of swinging in her hand. It wasn't that there was anything wrong with restaurant- it was just the opposite in fact. She loved going into that little restaurant and seeing that red-haired, cheerful waiter that always made her heart beat so desperately. And therein lay the problem.

Monika had always prided herself on her rigid self-control and the fact that she was a shining example of self-discipline. But when she'd first gone in to pick up her take-out so she could try the food at that restaurant she'd heard so much about she'd been immediately flustered by that waiter. She wasn't entirely sure why. Sure he was handsome and sweet and kind and perhaps a bit silly and—

Monika stopped herself right there as her pulse began to race. This was exactly what made her so upset!

But she wasn't really upset. In fact she kind of liked it. Which was a good thing because she couldn't stop herself from going back to the restaurant again and again. Not because she liked Italian food so much- she wasn't really that fond of pasta, though the food was good- but so she could she the waiter again.

She just didn't understand it. All her life she'd been able to control her emotions, her desires, her thoughts- everything. But just one smile from that man and she lost all semblance of control and became a blushing, nervous pile of lovesick goo. She just didn't understand it!

Not that things were going to go anywhere she thought. She tried her hardest not to be disappointed at that thought and failed miserably. She'd been going to the restaurant long enough to know that the waiter was naturally a flirt. So that blinding smile and those cheerful greetings were not for her- he was like that with everyone. Monika would never work up the courage to actually talk to him either. She just wasn't any good at talking to boys.

Monika let herself into her apartment with resignation in her heart. She could long for that charming waiter all she wanted, but she would never get a chance with him.

She'd just barely set the bag of take-out down on her kitchen table when someone pounded furiously on the door. Irritation gave way to exasperation as she heard her brother shout, "Monika! Let me in!"

Monika summoned her strictest and most disapproving frown before pulling the door open. Gilbert stood there, still in uniform, and gave her his trademark pathetic puppy-dog eyes. This could not be good.

"Monika! You've got to let me crash here tonight!"

"Hello to you too, Gilbert," she sighed, but she opened the door wider so her brother could come in regardless.

"Thanks! You're a lifesaver. Oh! You got me dinner too." Gilbert dashed into the kitchen, yanked open several drawers before he found the right one (he could never remember which was which), and pulled out a fork before ripping open the Styrofoam container of lasagna and digging in. Monika put a hand to her forehead in an attempt to soothe the headache that was already beginning to rage, but she didn't try to stop him. She hadn't been planning on eating it anyways.

"So what did you do this time?" Monika asked, taking a seat across from Gilbert.

"Liz kicked me out." Monika was certain that the only reason she could understand him with his mouth full was because they were related. She had yet to understand how that worked.

"I figured that. What did you do?"

Gilbert swallowed and then suddenly looked ashamed. "I kinda…uh…I ruined everything Liz had ready for the party tomorrow."

"Gilbert!"

"Please don't start lecturing me! I know it's really messed up and everything, alright! It's not like I did it on purpose and I feel really bad…" Gilbert trailed off, his eyes fixed on the table.

Monika was surprised. Gilbert practically never admitted that he was wrong. "So, what are you going to do now?"

With a sigh Gilbert laid his head on the table, his pilfered dinner temporarily forgotten. "I don't know," he replied despondently. "But I've got to come up with something really awesome or else I don't think Liz is gonna forgive me this time…"

Monika felt a wave of sympathy for her idiotic, impulsive, yet always genuine older brother. "I know you'll think of something," she said, smiling softly. She reached across the table and gave Gilbert's hand a gentle squeeze.

Gilbert looked up at her and smiled in return. "Thanks Monika. You're the awesomest little sister ever. Oh! Want some?" He offered her a forkful of mutilated lasagna.

Monika had to bite her lip to keep from curling it in disgust, though she wasn't sure if it was because of the state of the food or Gilbert's atrocious grammar. "No, thank you."

Gilbert shrugged and attacked his meal again. Monika sighed, exasperated once more, but glad that her brother's energy had returned. Her eyes wandered around the room as she waited for him to finish so she could clean up the mess he was making. They settled on the calendar pinned to her refrigerator door.

Tomorrow was New Year's Eve.

* * *

This was originally written for a contest on dA, but I really like it so I'm posting it here too. I certainly hope you enjoyed it! And I hope it was humorous enough to fit into the humor category. I swear the next part will be less depressing. Everyone will have a happy ending!

I chose Monika for NyoGermany's name because that's the name Himaruya said he liked and I like it better than Louise. The second part to this should be out…sometime.

Thanks for reading!

imagination junkie


	2. December 31

**December 31**

…

Monika Beilschmidt had just sat down to eat her lunch when Gilbert came flying into the kitchen with his uniform askew. "Late, late, damn it, I'm going to be so late!" He scrambled as he put his belt on and grabbed his hat. "I don't even have time to eat anything!" he howled as he yanked on his boots.

"Gilbert," Monika said, interrupting his tirade.

"I don't have time right now, Monika!" he snapped as he grabbed for the keys to his police cruiser. "I'm going to be late!"

"Just look, Gilbert," Monika said.

Gilbert whipped around to glare at Monika, but his eyes snapped downwards as she pointed. There was a fresh sandwich in a plastic bag sitting on the edge of the table. Gilbert grinned and lunged for the offered food. "You're awesome!" he exclaimed as he leaned over the table to plant a kiss on his sister's cheek. "Don't wait up!" he shouted as he pulled open the door and thundered down the stairs outside the apartment.

Monika set down her sandwich. Three…two…one… There was the sound of someone running up the stairs and then the door was thrown open again.

"Forgot my gun," Gilbert said, smiling sheepishly as he picked it up off the kitchen counter and shoved it in its holster. "Bye!" And he was gone again.

Monika sighed as she picked up her sandwich again. She loved her brother, she really did, but he could be such an _idiot _sometimes. Once she finished her lunch Monika rose, got ready, and left. It was a short drive to her brother's house and soon she was pulling up on the curb in a quaint little suburban neighborhood.

Monika paused on her way to the front door to examine a large dent in the front lawn. She shook her head. It looked like her brother was lucky that he even got out of the house alive yesterday.

Monika rang the doorbell. "Just a minute!" she heard her sister-in-law shout from deep within the house. There was the sound of muted clanking, a crash, a curse, and then the sound of running feet. The door was thrown open as Elizabeta glanced about, her expression harried.

"Oh, Monika," Elizabeta blinked at her in surprise as Monika offered her a small smile. "Hello. What're you doing here?"

"Gilbert told me what happened yesterday. So, I thought I would come and help you finish the preparations for the party."

"Oh Monika, that's so sweet," Elizabeta replied, smiling now as well. "But I couldn't possibly ask you to do that. I've got it under control." Her furtive glance back over her shoulder suggested otherwise.

"It's ok, really," Monika assured her. "I know how much trouble Gilbert can cause."

Elizabeta laughed briefly, though it sounded strained. "Well, at least you're not married to him."

"No. I'm related to him."

Elizabeta stared dumbfounded at Monika for a moment before bursting out into a true, deep laugh, doubling over as it rippled through her body. "You're right, that is worse." Monika smirked lightly in response. Wiping tears away from the corners of her eyes Elizabeta stepped back from the door. "Come inside. And thank you. You're a saint."

"Not a problem," Monika replied warmly.

…

Francis Bonnefoy let out an irritated sigh as he turned away and pulled his ringing phone from his pocket. "Yes?" he snapped as he flipped it open, not bothering to check the caller ID. He already knew who it would be.

"What am I going to do, Francis?" Gilbert whined on the other end, the speakers in the phone turning his voice tinny and extra annoying. "This is so unawesome!"

"I'm guessing you still haven't come up with a plan to win back Elizabeta's affection?'

"No," was Gilbert's sulky reply.

"Flowers."

"What?"

"Buy her flowers."

"Flowers? Seriously?! There's no way that's going to work!"

"Are you doubting my methods?" Francis asked sharply. He didn't have the patience to deal with Gilbert's dramatics at the moment. "You're the one who called me asking for advice, so do as I say and buy your wife flowers or spend the rest of your life sleeping on your sister's couch."

There was a short silence before Gilbert finally responded, his tone petulant. "I bet they're aren't any flower shops open today anyway."

"Hmmm…" Francis hadn't considered that. Then a thought struck him. "You're wrong, my friend. I know the perfect place and I can guarantee that it's open."

Their conversation was quick after that as Francis gave Gilbert the address and Gilbert thanked him by declaring him awesome. Francis hung up with a long-suffering sigh. Honestly, his friends would have no love life whatsoever if he wasn't gracious enough to help them. That thought returned him to his current dilemma. Antonio.

The man was seated on a milk crate in the center of the kitchen with his shaking hands clasped before him. Feliciano stood beside him, talking animatedly in an attempt to distract him. A guitar case sat as Antonio's feet and he kept casting nervous glances at it when he thought Feliciano wasn't paying attention.

Francis pinched the bridge of his nose as a headache threatened to start behind his eyes. To think Antonio would still have his paralyzing stage fright at his age…

Francis approached and laid a hand on his friend's shoulder. Antonio jumped at the contact and turned wide, nervous eyes to him. "I need some wine. Would you like something to drink?"

"I…um…" Antonio was so nervous he could barely speak, his words stuttering between his trembling lips.

Francis glanced at Feliciano and he returned his worried gaze. "I'll bring you some beer."

The restaurant was already packed as Francis pushed his way out of the kitchen and towards the bar. The small group playing currently wasn't particularly good, but it was late enough that most of the crowd was already too liquored up to care. Francis ordered and turned around to people watch as he waited.

No one in the crowd drew his interest. He sighed. Why couldn't there be anyone beautiful here tonight? He spotted Lovino at a small table in the corner, but he knew better than to go over and bother the man when he was wearing that particular scowl.

Francis's order arrived and he picked up both glasses to head back to the kitchen. If he didn't know better he would have sworn that the crowd had gotten thicker during his short wait at the bar and he was quite displeased at the way he was jostled as he tried to get back to the kitchen. It wasn't until he ran into someone, his wine spilling all down their front, that he realized he hadn't been paying any attention to where he was going.

"Goodness me!" Francis exclaimed, his headache making a sudden reappearance. He definitely did not need this right now. "I'm very, very sorry."

"No, it's ok. I'd say we're even now."

Francis's breath caught in his throat and his heart stuttered briefly as he looked up and met those violet eyes that had been haunting him for the last twenty-four hours. "Yes, I suppose we are," he murmured absently.

The man chuckled lightly. "Don't worry about it or anything. You'll have to excuse me now though, I'm afraid. There's somewhere I need to be. Have a Happy New Year."

"Wait!" The man turned back to him looking as surprised as Francis felt. He wasn't quite sure what he was doing, but he knew he couldn't let the man get away this time. "Please let me buy you a drink. I know we're even, but a wine stain is much worse than a coffee stain."

To Francis's great delight the man blushed and dropped his gaze shyly. "It's kind of you to offer, but I really have to get going. I only came in here to use the restroom."

Francis set his half-full wine glass down on an empty table and a laid a hand on the other man's shoulder. "Just one?" he asked with his most charming smile.

The man's blush deepened. "W-well…ok. But just one."

…

Lovino Vargas had no idea what his was doing in the stupid restaurant his brother worked at on stupid New Year's Eve. He also had no idea how he'd let his stupid brother talk him into this stupid idea. 'Come to the restaurant' he'd said. 'It'll be fun' he'd said. Stupid.

Lovino slouched further down in his seat as he took another hearty sip from his wine glass. He _so_ did not want to be here right now. It was crowded, people talking and laughing and drinking everywhere. The sound of the live music from a progression of local bands and weekend singers only added to the loud atmosphere. They weren't even serving any food! The kitchen was closed. Only the bar was open.

Lovino sighed as the last singer, a moderately pretty young woman, finished her song to raucous applause. It was getting late now at least. Hopefully he'd be able to slip out of here soon as the party picked up and Feliciano got too busy to check on him.

Lovino started in surprise when it was his brother he bounced up to the microphone instead of the owner of the restaurant who had been MCing. "Hello everyone!" he called cheerfully. "Is everyone having fun?" There was a general roar of agreement from the crowd and Feliciano's grin widened. "Great! Anyways, I'd now like to welcome to the stage…Antonio! He's a special act!" Lovino stared dumbfounded as his brother winked at him before jumping off the stage.

Lovino would have sworn he'd been plunged into ice water as Antonio, his Antonio, slowly mounted the stage to a smattering of applause. His guitar was hanging around his shoulders and the smile he threw the crowd was far from his usually vibrant grin. "Hello," he said, a tremor in his voice as he reached the microphone.

There were a few return greetings as Antonio settled onto the stool that Feliciano had brought out and placed behind him. "Well, my name is Antonio as Feli already told you. I don't do this kind of thing very often, but there's someone very special here tonight. Lovino, this is for you."

Lovino was aware that everyone had turned to stare at him as Antonio trapped his gaze with his own. His face flushed angrily, but he couldn't find the energy to move or even shout. He was frozen, ensnared in the moment.

Antonio turned the guitar briefly before clearing his throat. He began to play. Then he began to sing. It was shaky at first, but he quickly gained confidence, his voice taking on that rich, velvety tone that never failed to enchant Lovino.

"_Cuando el mundo al girar  
Como un rojo globo que al cielo va  
Y mis pies en el suelo no están  
Mi ancla tú serás_"

Lovino's heart jumped into his throat as his hands fisted in the fabric of his pants. That bastard! This was their song! Their song! What the hell was he doing playing it here in this restaurant in front of all these people?!

"_Soy famosa en el lugar  
Por inquieta y no puedo parar  
Pero yo te busco sin cesar  
Mi ancla tú serás_"

Tears formed in Lovino's eyes as anger surged through him. Was Antonio shameless? Would he stop at nothing to hurt him? Having Feliciano drag him here so he could sit there and sing to him like they weren't in a room full of people? Like they were…like they were…still ok?!

That's when Antonio's gaze turned upwards and away from his steadily plucking fingers. Lovino's breath caught as their eyes met. There were tears in the corners of Antonio's eyes. As Lovino watched a single tear slid down Antonio's cheek.

"_Extraña es la imagen que doy  
Me quieren cambiar a la moda de hoy  
Pero tú me abrazas donde estoy  
Y es que tú me amas tal y como soy_"

And that's when it hit Lovino like a sucker punch in the gut.

Antonio had horrible stage fright. He knew that. He'd barely been able to get Antonio to play for him when he'd learned the man could play the guitar and even now it was a struggle for Lovino to get Antonio to play for him. So this gesture…it wasn't easy for Antonio. It was probably one of the hardest things he'd ever done.

Antonio was saying sorry in the most ridiculous way he could possibly think of.

"_Cuando el mundo al girar  
Como un rojo globo que al cielo va  
Y mis pies en el suelo no están  
Mi ancla tú serás_"

Lovino's eyes filled with tears as Antonio's voice fell silent, the last few chords falling from the guitar. That bastard…that stupid goddamn bastard.

How could he possibly still be mad at him after he did something like that? Antonio loved him. God, he loved him so much. And here he was still fuming over something that had happened weeks ago, dragging things out just hurt the man that loved him.

Lovino bolted for the door as soon as Antonio's fingers stilled, tears pouring down his cheeks. He heard Antonio shout his name, but he didn't dare stop.

…

Gilbert Beilschmidt examined the flower shop skeptically as he got out of his cruiser. Francis had recommended it- well, more like ordered him to go to it on pain of divorce- but it sure didn't look like much. Hopefully this whole 'buy her flowers' thing would actually work.

As Gilbert entered, the bell above the door tinkling cheerfully, the man behind the counter jerked as though he'd been asleep. "Ah, welcome," he said blinking blearily for a moment. "Is there anything I can help you with?"

Gilbert looked him over with a critical eye for a moment. Blond, fairly short, green eyes, and good lord were those his eyebrows? There was a red impression on his cheek in the shape of knuckles. Definitely had been sleeping.

"Yea," Gilbert finally responded. "I need to buy some flowers."

The man shot him an irritable look that very clearly said 'No, really?', but his tone was still genial when he spoke again. "I see. Any special occasion?"

"Well, um…" Gilbert found himself flushing with embarrassment here. It was bad enough that all his friends and family had to know how badly he'd messed up with Liz, but now he had to tell a total stranger. But he needed the help. He didn't know the first thing about buying flowers. "I kind of screwed up things with my wife. I need something that will make it up to her."

"Ah," the man said, something in his tone knowing. He came around the counter with a small, friendly smile on his face. "I'm certain I can help you with that. How about roses?"

The man led him to a corner of the shop that was full to bursting with displays of different kinds and colors of roses. Gilbert immediately felt overwhelmed. "No," he said quickly. "That's too cliché."

"How about carnations then?"

The man led him to another display. "No, that's not right either."

"Daisies?"

"What?"

The man's thick eyebrows were drawing together, irritation creasing his brow. "What about an arrangement?"

"I…um…" Crap, Gilbert thought. He was in way over his head with this. He should have gone and picked up Francis and dragged him along to help. By force if necessary.

"Tulips!" Gilbert suddenly exclaimed, an old memory sparking deep within his mind. "Her favorite flowers are tulips!"

"Oh. Well why didn't you just say so?"

The man led Gilbert over to display full of tulips. Gilbert looked them over quickly before picking up a small bouquet that was a deep red. The man then led Gilbert over to the counter and he got his wallet out to pay.

"So how come you're open on New Year's Eve?" Gilbert asked as the man rang him up.

The man stiffened slightly. "Why wouldn't I be?" he asked, his tone slightly defensive.

"I dunno. Maybe you've got a party to go to?"

"No. I don't," the man replied as he accepted Gilbert's credit card.

"Friends or family to hang out with?"

The man was quiet for a long moment. "No," he finally said, his voice cold and guarded as he handed Gilbert's credit card back to him. "Make sure your wife puts those in water once you give them to her."

"Sure thing. And thanks!" Gilbert paused in the open door to look back at the man who had his downcast eyes trained on the counter top. "Listen." The man looked up, surprise in his eyes. "Even an idiot like me has a wife that loves me. Well, most of the time. Anyways, the point is that there has to be someone that loves you. Don't just hang around here tonight. Go see them."

Gilbert stepped outside before the man could answer, the bell tinkling again as the door swung shut. He made his way back to the car, placing the flowers in the empty passenger seat as he slung in behind the steering well. Gilbert shook his head as he turned the key in the ignition and shifted into drive.

"You're gonna owe me for this one, Alfred."

…

Arthur Kirkland was panicking. What the hell was he doing here? Why was he following the advice of that odd-looking police officer that had been in his shop not even an hour ago? The man was buying flowers in order to make up with his wife. Clearly he was not the person who Arthur should be listening to when it came to relationship advice. And yet here he was, standing outside the door of Alfred's apartment.

Maybe it was because the police officer's words had touched a nerve. Arthur was so very tired of being lonely, of being sullen and antisocial. He did have people he wanted to spend time with, to laugh and celebrate with. And the officer was right as well about there being someone who loved him. Or at least had loved him at one time. So Arthur had finally broken down and given in to his desire to see Alfred.

Arthur took a deep, bracing breath, reached out, and knocked on his door. There was the sounds of scrambling from inside and then the door was flung open. "Hey, there you are Mattie! I was wondering…if…"

Alfred's voice trailed off, his wide, shining grin melting into a look of shock as he stared at Arthur on his doorstep. Arthur shifted uncomfortably under that sky blue gaze and loudly cleared his throat. "Ah, hello Alfred. I didn't have much going on tonight, so I thought that I would…I thought I'd come by and say hello. But I suppose if you're waiting for Matthew I can just—"

"No!" Arthur flinched at the volume of Alfred's shout and Alfred instantly flushed red. "I mean no, it's fine. Would like to, uh, come in?"

"Yes…thank you." Alfred stepped out of the doorway and Arthur slipped into the apartment past him.

Arthur instantly found himself wishing that he hadn't come. This room, this apartment, Alfred…there was so much history. Too much history. And on New Year's Eve of all days. Arthur silently berated himself for being such an idiot.

The family room was almost exactly as he remembered it. The massive TV, the well-worn couch and chairs, Alfred's half-finished surround sound system. As always there were random food wrappers and empty Coke cans scattered around. But Arthur's touch was missing. His books, his near constant attempts to keep things clean, not even the silly little painting of a sailboat he had insisted on hanging on the wall. None of it was there anymore.

Pain assaulted Arthur's chest like a car had hit him. He shouldn't have come. Oh, he shouldn't have come. He fought back tears as he sank numbly onto the end of the couch.

"Um…would you like something to drink?" Alfred asked, though it seemed like his voice came from far, far away to Arthur.

"Yes, please," Arthur replied faintly.

His was vaguely aware of Alfred pushing a beer into his hand and then settling onto the opposite end of the couch. Arthur took a deep drink from the beer in the hope it would fortify him until he could leave this self-inflicted hell.

…

Antonio Fernandez Carriedo found his boyfriend slumped at one of the tables in their small café with his head safely in the circle of his arms. His shoulders shuddered with the force of his sobs that were loud enough to echo through the building. Antonio's heart clenched in his chest as he realized Lovino had been too upset to even make it upstairs.

Antonio immediately felt remorse. He hadn't meant to upset Lovino. He'd hoped that by playing their song there at the restaurant he would finally be able to demonstrate how truly sorry he was and that he was still completely and absolutely devoted to Lovino. It seemed that his plan had backfired. Antonio ran a still shaking hand through his hair as he approached the other man. All his stress, all his effort, all that fear and it had all come to naught.

Apparently Lovino hadn't heard Antonio come into the café because as Antonio laid a gentle hand on his shoulder he jumped as though he'd been burned. Antonio's chest ached as Lovino turned wide, red-rimmed eyes on him, his cheeks a ruddy mess of tears and his mouth turned downward in misery.

Lovino's eyes flashed with anger as soon as he saw who it was. "You! You bastard!" he snarled. "What the fuck were you thinking?!"

Antonio backed away, his hands held up in a placating gesture. "I didn't mean to upset you, really," he replied, his tone pleading as Lovino rose and advanced on him. "I was just trying to make you happy! To prove to you that I still love you!"

"So you go and play our song in front of all those people?!" Lovino howled. "How in hell did you figure that was ok, you stupid bastard?!"

"I…I…" Antonio's back bumped into a wall and he leaned against it as Lovino stopped less then a foot away. Normally Antonio would be perfectly happy for him to this close, but not now when he was angry and his behavior was so unpredictable. "I'm sorry, Lovino."

"Damn it!" Antonio flinched away as Lovino punched the wall beside his head. He'd had no idea he'd made Lovino this upset. In fact he wasn't sure he'd ever seen him this angry before.

Suddenly Lovino sagged and Antonio had to force himself not to catch the other man. "I don't understand…I don't understand!"

"What don't you understand?"

"You! I don't understand you, you stupid bastard!"

When Lovino looked up again his rage was gone, replaced by heart-wrenching despair. "Why?" he murmured, eyes searching Antonio's face. "Why are you still here trying? After everything I've done and said. And then you go and do that? Play in front of all those people? And it must have been…must have been so hard…"

Lovino's face screwed up, the tears falling faster and harder than before. Antonio couldn't help himself anymore- he gathered Lovino in his arms and pulled him into his chest. Lovino didn't fight it, leaning into Antonio as sobs wracked lean frame.

"You want me to tell you why?" Antonio asked softly, stroking Lovino's hair. Lovino nodded, his crying intensifying. "It's because I love you."

"But I don't understand why!"

"Lovino…look at me." Antonio cupped his hands around Lovino's face and forced him to meet his gaze. Lovino closed his eyes against the kindness and tenderness on Antonio's face and bit his lip as the tears continued to fall.

Antonio took a deep breath and then proceeded to pour his heart out. "I love you Lovino because, to me, you are perfect. Everything about you I love. I love the way you scowl and the way you yell at me and the way you smile when you think I can't see you. I know I hurt you and I swear I never meant for that to happen. And I swear to you it wasn't what you think it was."

"Lovino, you are my everything. You are my anchor, my heart. That's why I played that song for you tonight. I wanted to remind you of that."

Lovino shook his head wildly, but Antonio didn't let go. "I don't deserve you," he whimpered, his expression contorted with pain.

A smile tugged at Antonio's lips. "Maybe not. But you're not going to get rid of me either way." Then he leaned down and pressed his lips against Lovino's.

Lovino tried to pull away at first. And then he threw himself at the other man, wrapping his arms around Antonio's neck and deepening the kiss as fresh tears flowed down his cheeks. They stood there for a long while just kissing and nuzzling until Lovino finally pulled away, taking Antonio's hand in order to drag him towards the stairs.

"Lovi?"

"We're going upstairs."

"But—"

"I said we're going upstairs, damn it!"

Antonio didn't protest any further, a big grin firmly in place. His Lovino was back.

…

Feliciano Vargas decided that it was time to head out. He had a party to get to and they didn't really need him at the restaurant anymore, especially since the only reason he'd come in was to support Antonio. Both he and Lovino were gone and Feliciano could only hope that they were going to make up. He paused by the door to look back for Francis, but he was deeply involved in conversation with another man at the bar. Feliciano shrugged. He supposed he was on his own.

The walk to Elizabeta's house wasn't very long, though he hurried because the night had grown chill. As he approached it was clear that the party was in full swing with cars parked everywhere outside and the shadows of many people dancing across the curtains as people moved around inside.

Feliciano walked up to the front door and rang the doorbell. He hoped someone would hear it because right up next to the house it was obvious that it was very loud inside. Just as he was about to ring the doorbell again he heard an unfamiliar voice shout 'I've got it!' and the door swung open.

Feliciano's greeting died on his lips because there, in the doorway, was the blonde woman from the restaurant he was so infatuated with. She looked absolutely stunning in a short red dress that showed off all her curves. Feliciano drew in a ragged breath and attempted to say hello again, but it came out as a sort of whine.

Despite Feliciano's lack of articulation the woman instantly flushed a color bright enough to almost match her dress. She opened her mouth like she was going to say something too and Feliciano couldn't help but feel slightly relieved that when she was just as speechless as he was.

"Monika, what are you doing?" came Elizabeta's voice from behind the woman. "You're letting all the cold air in." As she stepped next to the other woman her face split into a smile. "Oh, Feliciano! There you are! I was beginning to wonder if you were going to come after all."

Feliciano finally forced himself to look away from the woman from the restaurant. He wasn't quite sure if the smile he was wearing was on straight, but he was having a difficult time caring at the moment. "Sorry. I was helping Antonio out with my brother."

"Oh, I see. How did it go? Please, come in." Elizabeta and the woman both drew farther back into the house so Feliciano could come in. Feliciano passed so close to her when he stepped by that he could feel the warmth radiating from her skin. He suppressed a shiver. "I don't know. Lovino ran off once the song was over and Antonio followed him."

"Well I'm sure it'll all work out!" Elizabeta replied cheerfully. "Wait, where's Francis?"

"Still at the restaurant," Feliciano said, his lips curving upwards in amusement as he remembered. "He looked a bit…busy."

Elizabeta shook her head. "Of course he would be. Oh! I don't think you've ever met my sister-in-law have you? This is Monika." She motioned to the woman from the restaurant.

"You're Gilbert's sister?" Feliciano blurted out, blinking in surprise. He would never have expected that!

"Yes," Monika replied, offering Feliciano a shy smile that made his heart soar. "I'm guessing you can't see the resemblance?" Feliciano shook his head vigorously as much as to clear it as to deny the statement.

"And Monika, this is Feliciano Vargas. He's an old family friend. I used to babysit him when he was little."

"Yes," came a dry voice from behind them and they all turned to see a richly dressed man with dark hair and glasses surveying them with distinct disdain. "You used to love to dress him in your clothes."

"Roderich!" Elizabeta hissed angrily, slapping the man's arm. "Don't say that!"

Feliciano was mortified. He worriedly pulled his gaze from Roderich- another old family friend- just in time to witness Monika giggle. Feliciano's heart jumped again and when he tried to swallow he found his throat was too dry.

"I'm sorry," Monika began, looking embarrassed now. "It's just—"

"No, it's fine," Feliciano interrupted, finally finding his stride. He gave her his best smile as he held out his hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Monika."

Monika's face darkened considerably when she hesitantly reached out and took Feliciano's hand. She didn't shake it, just squeezing gently. "The p-pleasure's all mine," she murmured in reply, finally meeting Feliciano's eyes. Feliciano was certain he would drown in her gaze.

"Well, I guess I'll just leave you two alone so you can get better acquainted," Elizabeta said with a wicked smirk as she steered the indignant Roderich away.

Feliciano ignored her. He had more important things to focus on.

…

Alfred F. Jones shifted uncomfortably. But the fact of the matter was that he wasn't going to get comfortable. Not with his ex sitting on the other end of the couch. It'd been several hours since Arthur had arrived and all they'd done was sit on the couch and watch one of the New Year's Eve countdown shows. He'd tried to make small talk for a short while, but since then they hadn't said a word to each other.

Alfred had no idea what to make of it. Of any of it. He hadn't seen or talked to Arthur for months and then, BAM, he'd shown up right outside Alfred's door. And then he'd sat on Alfred's couch drinking beer. Alfred wasn't sure how many he'd had at this point. Too many though, that was certain. Especially considering what a light weight Arthur was.

Alfred didn't know what to do. For weeks he'd dreamed of having a chance like this, where Arthur was here and maybe they'd finally be able to work things out. But now that it had actually happened he had no idea what to say.

He took another swig of beer as he chanced a glance at Arthur. He was staring fixedly at the TV, though his eyes were glazed over. Alfred couldn't tell if it was because he was lost in thought or that he was just really, really drunk. Alfred sighed. What was he supposed to do with this?

He turned back to the TV. They were just ten minutes away now. Alfred couldn't be happier. This year would finally end. This year that was supposed to be the happiest of his life and that had turned into the worst. He could finally move on.

Oddly, his heart twisted painfully at that thought. Though he kept telling himself that he wanted to move on, the fact was that Alfred still loved Arthur. Another thought wriggled to the top of his consciousness as he chanced another glance at the other man. Could he really leave it unfinished like this? When he finally had the last chance he'd been hoping for?

He stared down into his beer bottle as he thought. What should he do? He loved Arthur and there was a part of him that still believed that Arthur loved him. So it would be wrong not to try one last time, right? Alfred could do that. He could be that brave. He was a cop, for God's sake. He was a freaking hero!

Right. Alfred didn't know if it was really him or the beer that had fueled that debate, but it didn't really matter anymore because he'd made his decision. Alfred chugged the last of his beer and turned to Arthur.

"Arthur, there's something I want to tell you." Arthur grunted noncommittally to show he was listening. Alfred took a deep breath. "I'm sorry."

"…What?"

"I said I was sorry."

"For what?" Arthur snapped, finally turning to look at Alfred. His expression was baleful, his eyebrows drawing together in irritation.

Not a good look. But it was too late to go back now. So Alfred did what he did best and barreled on. "For everything. For messing everything up. I didn't mean to and I hope you know that."

Arthur glared at him for a moment longer, unidentifiable emotions swirling in his eyes, before he turned back to the TV. Suddenly feeling desperate Alfred reached out and grabbed Arthur's shoulder. He felt like he'd been stabbed in the gut when Arthur flinched at his touch.

"And I still love you Arthur," Alfred said. He was shocked to find that he was pleading. "I want you to know that. So if there's any chance…if you still feel the same way…I want to…we could…"

Arthur abruptly stood, yanking his shoulder from Alfred's grasp. "I don't want to talk about this," he said, his voice low and furious. "It was lovely to see you Alfred. Goodbye."

Alfred gaped as Arthur walked away, not quite steady on his feet, and reached for his coat. Alfred leapt to up. "Now hold on a second. If you don't want to talk about it, it's fine, but I can't let you leave yet. You're drunk and you'll get yourself hurt."

"I'm not drunk!" Arthur all but snarled, pushing Alfred's hands away as he tried to take Arthur's coat. "Just leave me alone."

"No." Alfred didn't like doing this, but he wasn't about to let Arthur wander drunkenly home on a night like tonight. So, he used his best authoritative cop voice as he continued. "It's not safe. Just stay here until you sober up a little bit."

"No!" Arthur shouted, yanking at his coat. Alfred, who'd gotten a hold on one of the sleeves, refused to let go. A brief struggle ensued and ended with Alfred pinning Arthur against the front door.

"I'm not letting you leave yet," Alfred repeated. Arthur stared at him wide-eyed as though transfixed before suddenly slumping against Alfred's shoulder.

"Damn you," he muttered and Alfred could here the tremor in his voice. "Damn you for always being so…so good."

"Sorry Artie," Alfred replied softly, using his favorite pet name for the other man. "But it's kind of my job."

Arthur shuddered against Alfred's shoulder once. Alarmed, Alfred tried to pull back and get a look at Arthur's face, but he found he couldn't. Arthur had snaked his arms around Alfred and buried his fingers in the back of his shirt. Arthur shuddered again and Alfred realized he was crying.

Alfred's heart sank. He'd made Arthur cry? Damn it. He'd gone and screwed up things again. At a loss at what to do Alfred did the only he could think of- he embraced Arthur right back.

…

Elizabeta Héderváry-Beilschmidt was very pleased with herself. Despite the fact that Gilbert had ruined everything for the party the entire thing had gone off without a hitch. Her and Monika's hard work all afternoon and evening had paid off.

All her friends were there, laughing and talking and eating and drinking. She'd been praised time and again for the food, though she was proud to tell anyone who'd listen that Monika had made all the delicious desserts herself. Everyone had talked excitedly about the decorations too. No one seemed to notice that everything had been put together literally at the last minute.

Elizabeta was making another round through her guests when she spotted Monika. She and Feliciano had settled in a quiet corner nearly an hour ago and hadn't looked away from each other since. Elizabeta smirked smugly to herself as she watched them talk, Monika blushing prettily and Feliciano working his best moves. Another match had been made at one of her parties. They might as well crown her the queen of love. Take that Francis.

She paused in the kitchen for a moment in order to take several hearty swigs from her beer. Yes, everything was perfect. Except for one thing. Where was her good for nothing husband? She'd been glad when he hadn't returned last night- because, honestly, she might really have killed him- but her anger had waned and now she just felt worried. He'd had to work today, yes, but he should have been home by now.

She bit her lip as she thought back to yesterday morning. Yes, she'd been mad, but what if she'd overreacted a bit? What if she'd scared him off? That thought frightened her more than anything. Elizabeta had always been a tomboy and had always been afraid that she'd never find a man because they'd never be able to handle her. Gilbert never seemed to mind, but what if she'd taken things to far this time?

Well, it wasn't that late yet. He probably just hadn't had time to get home yet. Elizabeta jumped slightly as Roderich stuck his head into the kitchen. "They've begun the countdown on TV," he said. "Perhaps you could help me gather everyone together?"

Crap. It really was that late. "Of course!" Elizabeta said, jumping to her feet and bustling past Roderich and out into the family room. She took a deep breath and shouted, "Hey! The countdown's starting, everyone! Get your butts in here!" She threw Roderich a grin, but he simply shook his head and sighed.

Elizabeta turned up the TV as the ball in Times Square began to drop. Everyone was watching eagerly and talking excitedly, but all that Elizabeta could think of was Gilbert. Then she thought she heard the doorbell ring. She turned around to stare at the door. Could it be…? Well, there was only one way to find out.

She hurried across the room and pulled the front door open, a cold breeze ruffling her hair and dress as she did so. Elizabeta was greeted by her husband, still in uniform, standing on the doorstep and grinning sheepishly. "Gilbert?" she asked, confused as to why he'd rung the doorbell rather than just coming inside.

"Hey, Liz," he replied and Elizabeta would have sworn he sounded nervous. "Happy New Year." And then he brought the hand he'd had tucked behind his back forward and offered her a bouquet of red tulips.

…_Five…_

Antonio and Lovino lay in bed, a tangle of limbs and sheets. Lovino was cuddled up against Antonio's chest and Antonio had his arms around Lovino, both of them basking in each other's warmth and love.

Antonio lifted his head in curiosity as a great cheer rose up from the street. "Sounds like it's almost time," he commented. "Do you want to go down and celebrate?"

"No way," Lovino replied, his voice muffled as he nuzzled into Antonio's shoulder.

Grinning, Antonio wrapped his arms tighter around Lovino and squeezed as hard as he could. Lovino struggled and protested, though only things like 'damn it' and 'bastard' were understandable. Antonio let go of Lovino as he spotted their alarm clock on the bedside table. "Lovino, look."

Lovino jerked away from Antonio's chest with a gasp and shot him a glare before glancing over his shoulder at the alarm clock. "Huh. Would you look at that." It read '11:59'.

Neither Lovino nor Antonio moved as they both stared at the clock. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the numbers rolled over and it read '12:00'. An enormous cheer rose from the street and carried past their window.

Lovino rolled back to look at Antonio. The man was grinning. "Happy New Year, Lovi."

Lovino rolled his eyes at the nickname, but a smile tugged at his lips all the same. "Happy New Year. Bastard." And then he pulled Antonio down for a kiss.

…_Four_…

"It's…it's getting kind of late isn't it?"

"Yes…I do believe it is…"

"Didn't you have uh…uh party to go to?"

"Weren't you going to see…um…was it your brother?"

Francis and Matthew- for that was the beautiful man's name, as he'd quickly learned once he bought him that drink- stared at each other for a moment before cracking up. That first drink had been several hours ago, of course, though Francis had lost track of how many he'd had between then and now. He didn't really care, however. He was having far too much fun.

Matthew's mind had turned out to be just as enchanting as his face. Francis had been quite pleased to learn that they had many things in common. And he certainly enjoyed demonstrating his attraction to the other man and nurturing Matthew's attraction to him.

Truth be told, Francis had completely forgotten about the party. He'd been so involved with Matthew that everything else had flown from his mind. He was dreading when the night would come to an end. As much as he wanted to take Matthew to bed he also found that he wanted more than that. He wanted this- whatever this was- to continue. And that was very unusual for him.

A great roar exploded from the crowd around them. "What's going on?" Matthew asked, having to shout in order to be heard. It was rather unusual to hear this as it had become very clear over the course of the evening that Matthew was much more prone to softness. Francis wondered briefly how loud he would be able to make Matthew yell in bed.

Francis shook his head to clear his mind of this distracting train of thought. "They're starting the countdown, I think."

"Oh." Matthew's face fell briefly. "I guess I'm really not going to make to Alfred's tonight after all. I hope he isn't mad."

"I'm sure he'll be fine," Francis assured him. He certainly would be if Gilbert had followed his instructions to the letter.

"Listen, Francis," Matthew said, leaning forward and laying his hand on top of Francis's. A pleasant spark of warmth from the touch shot up his arm and into his chest. "There's something I want to say to you."

"Go ahead."

"Well, I wanted to…to thank you."

Francis blinked at Matthew in surprise. "For what?"

"For…" Matthew looked down, embarrassed. Francis found the pink flush of cheeks immensely endearing. "For seeing me. Most of the time people just ignore me. To be honest I feel invisible. But you saw me Francis. You have no idea how much that means to me."

Francis felt guilt stirring in his gut. Maybe it was the alcohol or maybe it was that sweet, adoring look in Matthew's eyes, but Francis found that he couldn't lie to him. "I'll be honest with you Matthew. The first time we, ah, ran into each other I didn't see you. Not until your coffee was staining my jacket at least." Matthew's face fell, his eyes dropping in embarrassment.

Francis reached out and cupped the other's man cheek, drawing his gaze upward again. He was shocked to see tears in the corners of Matthew eyes. "You have no idea how sorry I am about that," Francis continued earnestly. "But I can promise you one thing. If you'll let me I'll make sure you never feel invisible again."

Matthew's eyes widened. Francis ran his finger over his cheekbone, a fond smile tugging at his lips. In the background he could hear people shouting, chanting the countdown as it approached zero. Well, this seemed like as good a time as any to make a move.

Francis leaned forward and pressed his lips to Matthew's. Matthew responded instantly, wrapping his arms around Francis's shoulders and pulling him flush against his chest. They kissed passionately for several long seconds until Francis pulled away just far enough to speak. "I take it I am forgiven?"

"Happy New Year, Francis," Matthew replied, his lips ghosting over Francis's.

Francis grinned. "Happy New Year, indeed."

…_Three_…

Monika jumped when Elizabeta's shout echoed around them, calling them all into the family room to watch the ball drop. She was secretly pleased that Feliciano's reaction was the same as hers, clear proof that he'd been just as absorbed in their conversation as she had been. She didn't get a chance to comment on it, however, as Feliciano jumped to his feet, grabbed Monika's hand, and pulled her along with him with a massive smile on his face. "Come on!"

This night had been a dream come true for Monika. She'd been so surprised to learn that the man from the restaurant was actually one of her sister-in-law's family friends. What made it even better was the fact the he was clearly attracted to her. The look on his face when she'd opened the door for him made her blush even in memory.

What she hadn't realized was that Feliciano was quite the talker. Once they'd been introduced he'd almost talked her ear off, jumping from one subject to the next so quickly she couldn't even begin to keep up. Normally she'd find that annoying and deem him airheaded, but with Feliciano it didn't bother her. There was more to him than that. And it was impossible to control her feelings when it was so obvious that he was attracted to her too. It made her wonder how she possibly could have missed it before.

Feliciano pulled her into the family and straight into the crowd before the television. They were right in the middle of it all as the countdown started and while Monika didn't like crowds she found that all she had to do to feel comfortable was lean into Feliciano.

It was as they reached ten that Monika felt Feliciano's arm snake around her waist. She instantly felt her face heating up as her heart began to flutter. "Monika," he whispered to her, the frivolity gone from his voice to be replaced with a deeper, much more seductive tone. "Did you come here with anyone tonight?"

Monika shook her head when she found that she just couldn't force any words out her mouth. Feliciano smiled at her warmly, gently leaning forward until their foreheads pressed together. "That's good news because I didn't come with anyone either."

"I know," Monika murmured back, mesmerized by the look that burned in his eyes. "I opened the door for you."

Feliciano's smile turned into a grin. "So you did."

As everyone around them screamed 'one' Feliciano closed the very small distance between their lips in a kiss. It was like fireworks going off. Monika closed her eyes and did her best to melt into him.

The kiss was short, but when Feliciano pulled away he ghosted his lips across her jaw to whisper into her ear. "Happy New Year."

A shiver ran down Monika's spine and her fingers dug into the fabric of Feliciano's shirt. "Happy New Year," she whispered back, craning her neck around to kiss him again.

…_Two_…

Arthur's sobs finally subsided and Alfred was able to guide him back to the couch. Once they were sitting, however, Alfred didn't relinquish his hold on the other man. This chance was far too precious. If this was the last time Alfred was going to be able to put an arm around Arthur's shoulders then he wasn't going to give it up until he had to.

Time ticked away as they sat there together, with Arthur nestled against Alfred's chest. Alfred hoped it would last forever. But as the countdown started Arthur shifted. "Alfred…" he said, his voice thick. He cleared his throat before continuing. "Alfred, I want to apologize to you."

Alfred regretfully drew his arm away, turning so he could face Arthur completely. The other man had his gazed fixed on his lap where his fingers twisted together nervously. "Apologize for what?"

"For…for everything. For being such a stubborn, prideful, fool. It was my fault that things ended so badly. And I feel absolutely awful that you feel like you need to apologize to me."

Alfred stared at Arthur dumbfounded. "What're you talking about…?" he asked weakly. "It was my fault and we both know it."

"No, it wasn't."

"But…Arthur I don't undertst—"

"God, would you just listen to yourself!" Arthur suddenly shouted. "You're so…so ridiculously good! Even now you want to take all the blame…"

Alfred stared at Arthur as he began to cry again. There was a roar of noise from the TV and then 'Auld Lang Syne' began to drift all around them from Alfred's surround sound system.

"Damn it!" Quite suddenly Alfred found himself with his back pressed against the couch and Arthur hovering over him. Alfred couldn't move or think as Arthur's eyes bored into his on, a few tears dripping from them and onto Alfred's cheek.

"God damn it," Arthur sobbed. "I love you so much Alfred. And I've missed you. You have no idea how much I've missed you. So, if you can find the forgiveness in your heart, can we put this all behind us? Start over? Since it's New Year's and all?"

Alfred's response was to grab the back of Arthur's neck and pull him down into a hungry kiss. "You have no idea…how much…I've wanted to do this again," Alfred growled against Arthur's lips.

"I'll take that as a yes, then?" Arthur responded with a weak chuckle. Their lips never broke contact as they spoke.

"Happy New Year, Arthur."

"Mmm…you too."

…_One_…

Elizabeta stared dumbfounded at the proffered flowers. Red tulips…her favorite. He'd remembered. She raised her stunned gaze to meet Gilbert's. "What this?"

"It's a peace offering, I guess," Gilbert replied, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly. "I know I messed up really bad. And I really am really sorry. Though it looks like you pulled everything off anyways," Gilbert added with a slightly mischievous smirk as he glanced past his wife into the house.

He turned his gaze back to Elizabeta, his eyes wide and earnest. "So, do you think you can forgive me?"

Elizabeta stood there for a long moment, considering the man before him. Then she grinned, grabbed the bouquet from his hands, and jumped forward into his arms to plant a big, wet kiss on his mouth. Gilbert was taken aback at first, but he eagerly returned the gesture as he realized that she was genuinely happy to see him and not planning some sort of trick.

"Happy New Year, you idiot," Elizabeta said with a smile that Gilbert echoed easily. "Now come inside already. It's freezing out here."

_Happy New Year!_

I finally got the second part of this one done! I hope the title makes more sense now. And everyone got their happy ending :)

The song in Romano's part is 'Mi Ancla' by Mindy Gledhill. Originally I wasn't actually going to put a song in, but then I found this one and it seemed perfect. It's so pretty and I just feel like it fits Spain and Romano's relationship really well. The lyrics for the passages I used are below.

While the world is spinning  
Like a red balloon going toward heaven  
And my feet are not on the ground  
My anchor, you will be

I am famous in the place  
For worrying, and I can't stop  
But I'm endlessly searching for you  
My anchor, you will be

Strange is the image I create  
They want to change me to today's fashion  
But you hold me to where I am  
And it's that you love me just as I am

While the world is spinning  
Like a red balloon going toward heaven  
And my feet are not on the ground  
My anchor, you will be

Thanks for reading! And Happy New Year!

imagination junkie


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